Lass, You Weren't Even in the Book!
by kkolmakov
Summary: Yet another cliché story of female OCs saving the Durin numpties. Oneshot. Purists of Tolkien canon are advised to refrain from reading. Girl power! [Thorin x my usual OC] [Kili x Tauriel, who is PJ's OC to think of it] and [Fili... Uhem, well, you'll see for yourself]


' **Tis a little something I scribbled in my notebook today, while the giant mixer in our bakery was working on the pierogi dough.**

 **It might be a bit… different, but I hope you have a laugh or two. I just thought, a bit of poking fun at PJ and FanFiction clichés won't harm anyone ;)**

 **My OC, Wren/Filegethiel, and plenty of liberties with the book and the films are included :)**

 **Girl power!**

* * *

 _ **DOS**_

* * *

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin asked carefully, keeping his expectations low. Let's face it, Thorin and the King of the Wooden Elves in the same chamber meant only one thing...

"He did," Thorin sneered through bared teeth. "I told him he could go ishkh khakfe andu null. Him and all his kin!" Thorin's voice rang through the dungeons.

Aye, just like Balin had anticipated. Disaster.

"And there I've always thought that Dwarves are supposed to be good at trade," a merry melodic voice came from the shadows, and a small figure stepped out, closer to the door to Balin's cell. The person was clearly an Elf, it was supple, and dressed in a green cloak, a low hood hiding the face. It was also clearly a child, of the height equal to Balin's, perhaps a few inches taller.

"And I heard Elves were devoted parents. Who lets a child into dungeons?" Thorin grumbled from his cage, and the small figure emitted a silver laughter, and pushed the hood off.

It was no child. And no Elf, for that matter. It was a short, freckled, ginger woman of Men. She tilted her head and studied Balin, and then turned towards where Balin thought Thorin's cell was.

"Children... no, we do not let children down here. Healers, on the other hand..." she trailed away, and Balin saw a large sack in her hand. "Honourable King Thranduil sent me down here to inquire whether any of you needs medical attention. You were after all saved from an attack of the Great Spiders."

Balin felt like covering his eyes with his hand, knowing what was coming next.

"Saved?!" Thorin roared. "We were ambushed!"

"Oh I see, now it is all clear. You obviously were safe and successfully crossing the enchanted river, and spiders were not planning to have you for supper," the girl sing-songed sarcastically. "Pardon my confusion, my lord." The way her voice wrapped around the moniker didn't bode well. And just as it were to be expected, a growl followed, and then a loud bang of two fists into the bars of the cell. Balin cringed.

"We do not need any assistance from you, lass," Thorin snarled, and the girl shrugged.

She remained standing in front of Thorin's cage though, rocking on her heels, studying him, her head tilted. She was quite an oddity. Though the colouring wasn't that unusual for the Elves, and especially, apparently, among their captors, her hair was also curly, which Balin had never seen on the Elves. She was of Men, no doubt, but looked strange even for them: there was a turned up nose, slanted eyes, narrow, like button holes, a wide red mouth. The clobber and the braids were indubitably Elven though, matching what Balin had seen on the Wooden Elves.

"Entertaining yourself, Filegethiel?" another female voice came, and the Elven maiden whom they had seen during their arrest walked down a staircase by the far wall. The little redhead twirled on her heels, and a brilliant smile splashed on her features.

"Not as much as you, Tauriel. I saw you flirting shamelessly with one of the _nogothrim_. The dark haired one, with eyes like blackberries?" Panic coloured the face of the Elven guard, and the healer laughed loudly. "I bet, Prince Legolas is nervously chewing at his best bow string at the moment."

"Filegethiel!" The Elf's voice broke into a very feminine squeak. "Not in front of them!"

"Oh, should I then just chat with them about the moon, and the stars, and the sacred memories of our people?" The little healer pressed her hands to her chest and battered her lashes. The slanted eyes squinted even more, in a mischievous grin, and Balin felt unreasonable fondness for the cheek.

And then Balin wondered whether that quiet screeching noise was indeed the gritting of the royal teeth: Thorin clearly didn't take the news about Kili's transgression well.

The two maidens exchanged couple lines in the Elven tongue, and then the healer turned to Thorin's cage.

"You do not look well, my lord. Are you certain you are in no need of medical attention?"

Balin hoped the girl didn't know Khuzdul, since Thorin answered in a long and detailed description of what he thought of Elven magic, herbs, and many of their kin.

The girl shook her head, and followed the Elven maiden up the stairs, leaving the dungeon.

* * *

"Are you truly Thorin Oakenshield?" a quiet voice asked, and Balin slid off his cot and crept to the bars. The lights were out in the dungeons, and other Dwarves were probably sleeping, but Balin had been lying awake, preoccupied with the fate of their quest.

He peeked and saw the girl from earlier. She stood in front of Thorin's cell, a small oil lamp in her hand. She was dressed in a green dress, clinging to her thin body. Balin couldn't help but note a surprisingly alluring pert bum. Women of other races rarely enticed Dwarves, but that was surely a fascinating backside for such a bony creature!

"Who is asking?" Thorin's voice boomed in return.

Balin rolled his eyes in the darkness of the cell. Thorin had already destroyed any chances for alliance with the Elves. And now, presented with an opportunity for an escape - clearly, the maiden was enamoured with him after seeing him once, that was quite a common happenstance - Thorin continued to roar and rage instead of trying to convince the lass to let them out.

"My name is Filegethiel. I am the ward of King Thranduil. I was found on the edge of the Greenwood the Great in a mysterious basket and brought up as an Elf. I am a healer."

"I didn't know Elves welcome other races in their woods," Thorin grumbled, and the girl suddenly sat on the floor, in front of his door. Her legs were crossed, and she pressed elbows into her knees and settled her chin on her intertwined fingers.

"It is the Third Age, my lord. Races mix and mingle. Men live among Elves all over Middle Earth these days. Say, Lord Elrond has a boy as his ward. And perhaps, one day we will see a union between a Dwarf and a woman of Men..." she trailed away, her eyes fixed on Thorin's cell. Balin rubbed his hands.

"That is unacceptable," Thorin deadpanned, and Balin silently thumped his head into the wall. And then again.

The girl emitted a dismissive 'pffft' sound.

"One of your companions wouldn't agree with such narrow-mindedness."

"Kili has little understanding of the world," Thorin announced haughtily, and the girl watched him for a few seconds, her doe eyes unblinking.

"You are quite a grump, I have to say. I understand you have a tragic past, but considering that you managed to rebuild the life for your race after the horrible calamity of a dragon attack, I'd expected you to be a better diplomat. Or at least show a bit more reason."

Thorin's answer was predictable - proud brooding silence. The girl sighed.

"Why is King Thranduil keeping you here? That is surely disrespectful, considering you are a monarch of another Kingdom."

Thorin sneered yet another answer in Khuzdul that Balin hoped the girl didn't understand. Some parts of the Elvenking's anatomy were mentioned.

"Unless there is a reason why he doesn't want you to reach the Mountain, say, not to awaken the dragon, or something of that sort. Still, that is quite a temper tantrum from him."

The redhead rose and patted her dress cleaning off the dust from the floor. Balin prayed to Mahal Thorin didn't let her go without at least trying to merit from her infatuation with him.

"Could I do something to alleviate your suffering, my lord?" the girl asked, and Balin could swear there was certain suggestiveness to her tone.

"A bit of solitude would be highly appreciated," Thorin answered, and the girl gave him the last look over and left.

Balin sadly plodded back to his cot. The situation was indeed hopeless. Just as a certain Dwarven King.

* * *

"Kili!" Fili yelled, seeing the dark haired prince of Erebor sliding into the barrel, and a piece of the arrow snapped away from his injured thigh. Elves and Orcs were fighting around, and the gates opened, and Thorin's barrel plummeted down.

White foam and cold water were filling his mouth, and throat, and lungs, and arrows swooshed by. He could hear the rough barks of the Orcs, and he saw both the monsters and the captors run the river shores. And then the river slowed down, made a sharp turn, almost bending into the opposite direction, and on a clearing near it he saw the girl who had bothered him in the cell.

She had just jumped out of the shrubbery, and he saw Orcrist in her hands. She ran along the river, seemingly unaffected by the ruckus around her, and then she quickly climbed on a tree fallen across the river.

"Thorin!" she screamed, and he raised his hands. She was balancing on the trunk, and then he saw her freeze, clearly bracing herself, and the sword flew towards him, precisely into his hand.

The river picked up speed again, and his barrel rushed under the tree she stood on. He looked over his shoulder, and saw her cheerfully wave at him. The wide mouth was spread in a happy grin, and he decided that she was mad. Brave and unexpectedly helpful, but mad.

* * *

 **BotFA**

* * *

Tauriel watched the Dwarves trying to push the boat into the lake. They were clearly failing, but she assumed they'd get offended if she offered them help. Why they hadn't chosen a vessel more suitable for their size - she couldn't summon. And then she felt a pair of sad eyes on her. She turned and looked at the Dwarf. He surely was attractive, even for a Dwarf. And the pleading expression on his noble face, the eyebrows hiked up under a begging angle, was stirring some protective and alarmingly mothering urges in her.

"Tauriel..." The mothering urges quickly were replaced by giddy excitement when she heard his low velvet voice. Tauriel schooled her face into a cold expression. People were wounded and dying around them, and there was something going on with the Orcs, and the two girls she had found herself in charge of still hadn't found their father. Surely, it was no time for emotions.

Apparently, the Dwarf - and those lips and shoulders were very distracting - thought otherwise. In his low, raspy voice he was inviting her to join his companions - quite a preposterous proposal, if you asked her - and then words in his tongue followed, and that was surely affecting her, but had he forgotten what was happening around?

Tauriel gave him a mournful look. So pretty, but clearly not the brightest of them all.

Then she felt some unpleasant drilling sensation at the base of her skull, which meant only one thing. Prince Legolas stood behind her, with his curved lips, and excessive eyeliner. This one at least kept his untimely declarations to himself, and managed to concentrate on the disturbing events around them. They found a horse and departed to Gundabad.

* * *

Bolg, son of Azog, was a worthy opponent for her. Dunking under his blow, she wondered what was his ugly father feeding him, when Bolg was a no less ugly child - such height and strength were uncharacteristic for an Orc, even of their descent.

Tauriel rolled on the snow away from him, and swore under her breath.

This whole fight was not going well from the start. First, she had to convince Legolas to go to Erebor. She had an unpleasant suspicion that he thought she did it for Kili, but even a dimwit would understand that strategically that was where they were needed. Legolas was almost as good as her with the sword, she needed him with her. She had to appeal to his feelings for her. It felt below her, but one had to sometimes cheat when dealing with men and children. Praise, bribe, and cajole, as Filegethiel would always say.

Then Legolas decided to play with bats. She was intending to properly kick his royal arse after the war was over. What was it with the sudden desire to parasail?!

And aye, it was her own fault. She just kept on being distracted. Perhaps, she was indeed a bit too preoccupied by Kili's fate, but he was helpless as a pup - inconsistently, because sometimes he showed himself a very skilled warrior - and there were Orcs around them! She smacked into the wall, and clenched her teeth.

Thankfully, Kili jumped on Bolg at a very good moment, and since she was not too exhausted by the combat - unlike Kili and other Dwarves who had been fighting for quite a while - it took her only a few seconds to twist out of the Orc's grip and stick both her daggers in his respective eye sockets. The monster died fast, with a disgusting gurgling noise.

She couldn't argue, Kili's adoring eyes on her felt nice. He was panting, his eyes misty and reverent, and he was as much as drooling from the awe she was clearly inducing in him with her fighting proficiency. Aye, it did feel nice.

* * *

They rushed towards the part of the tower where Kili's Uncle was fighting. Tauriel was feeling rather irritated by his previous behaviour, but his death would be unfortunate for the battle spirit of the Dwarves. While her feet were stomping on the frozen ground, she shortly wondered where Legolas was, and whether he was done impersonating a kite. Apparently, not.

They turned around the corner, and saw the Dwarven King fight the Pale Orc. Alright, Tauriel had to give the Dwarf credit: he was majestic! No wonder Filegethiel had been sighing and doodling his long nosed profile on every surface in Mirkwood.

They were now balancing on a surprisingly square piece of ice, and then the Dwarf properly surprised her: he used his big Dwarven head.

While the Pale Monstrosity was gawking at the Eagles, as if he hadn't expected them to reappear in this war after they had helped his enemy once in the exactly same manner, the Dwarf moved off their patch of ice - and Tauriel still felt uncomfortable from how unnaturally square it was - and then the weight at the end of the Orc's throwing chain flew into Azog's hands, and splosh!

Maybe, the Dwarf was good enough for Tauriel's best friend. And let's face it, Filegethiel was much more interested in the chest, and the hair, and the coarse black beard than the content of his noggin.

* * *

The fact that Azog the Defiler jumped out of the water like a mating salmon was astonishing on its own, but the fact that no one except Filegethiel and Tauriel expected it was beyond any reason. The Orc was in water but it wasn't as if he had been killed or even wounded! And who said he couldn't swim?!

Filegethiel, in full Elven armour - since they were indeed in the middle of a battle, and safety meant more than looking good in a chainmail shirt with three top buttons open - appeared around the corner, grabbed the Dwarf's belt at his back, and dragged him from the edge of the ice, yelling that he was lucky he was so pretty. He was twisting his head trying to see behind him, and that's when Azog made his appearance.

And then died quickly and boringly, when two of Fili's daggers pierced the frosty air, one skewering his head, another going through his throat.

The Orc glurped and sank under ice, this time most likely for good.

"Sister!" Kili gleefully yelled.

"Fili is a girl?!" Tauriel asked, but then felt that she should have known from the start. Fili was the only one who showed any common sense on this quest, took care of Kili and Bard's children, and Dwarven women did have beards, after all. And the little elegant beads on Fili's moustache were indeed too much in a good taste for a man.

"I thought she was ambushed in the ruins!" Kili was as much as bobbing on his feet from excitement.

Tauriel shook her head. She doubted Fili could be so easily ambushed, and after all a person that carried so many weapons and was so good with them wasn't the easiest of targets. Princess Fili was clearly a maiden of clear mind and constant preparedness.

* * *

Tauriel decided she could do worse, and agreed to marry Kili. After all, they had had a few frisky episodes in secluded corners of Erebor while the three Kings held their endless negotiations, full of poorly masked insults and childish bickering. And Tauriel decided that a beard, large hot palms, and eager desire to please her were worth it.

Legolas held well, but she thought she saw his eyeliner to be smudged couple times.

On her wedding the best part was the visit from Lady Galadriel, Tauriel's childhood hero. The Lady of Lorien arrived in the company of Lord Elrond, and the highlight of the dinner was their account of Lady Galadriel's triumph in Dol Guldur.

Tauriel and Filegethiel had forgotten to breathe, mesmerised by the story, after which the healer looked at her friend with shining eyes and breathed out, "I want to be her when I grow up."

Tauriel laughed, and Filegetheil added, "Except I would still wear shoes. Ruins can be very unsanitary."

* * *

The guests ate and drank, merriment was growing, and the drunker the men were getting, the less differences they seemed to notice between the races.

"I think it's time," Filegethiel whispered into Tauriel's ear, and the bride chuckled. The healer was on the mission. And the mission included a certain Dwarven King, and judging by the predatory glimmer in Filegethiel's eyes, his heart wasn't the only organ the little ginger was after.

Stifling her laughter, Tauriel watched the healer get up, her head held high, and decisively march to the Dwarven King. He was stately orating something, when Filegethiel plopped on his lap, grabbed the big Dwarven ears, and pulled him to her lips.

Silence rang above the royal table, and then Fili throatily guffawed.

Filegethiel was thorough, the King wasn't fighting. When she finally moved away from him - without releasing his ears - he looked dazed, his cheekbones flaming, and eyebrows hiked up to the majestic hairline.

"Just say 'aye' and accept that's what's happening," Filegethiel said firmly, and scratched the Dwarven King behind the left ear.

He gulped, blinked twice, and rasped out, "Aye."

Tauriel lifted her goblet, and the guests cheered. The future royal couple of Erebor didn't hear, lost in a very enthusiastic kiss.

* * *

And all ladies in Erebor, Dale, Mirkwood, and all over Arda lived happily ever after!

* * *

THE END

* * *

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modern romance/erotica humour story, initially written here}

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* * *

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 **CONVINCE ME THE WINTER IS OVER**

 **{my first novel**

 **inspired by the story initially written here}**

 **Available on Amazon in Kindle and Paper!**

* * *

 ** _Summary:_**

 _Renee Miller is a reclusive web designer who, after several hours of delirium from flu, wakes up to find a stranger in boxer briefs standing in her bathroom._

 _John is an archaeologist who finds himself stuck in a stranger's flat in a snowstorm._

 _Frozen in her neat and clean world of highly functional anxieties and her history of childhood trauma, Renee is perhaps the worst possible host for her flatmate's boyfriend's colleague. Yet, while the fervent gush of life that is John Greaves disrupts her carefully guarded existence, Renee finds herself gradually yearning for more._

 _Is John the first breath of Spring in her frigid world?_


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